


A Delicate Heart

by Clinkclinkb



Category: Never In Peace (Sam)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Cold, Crying, Death, Depression, Does that always stop him?, Gen, Guns, Hatred, Heartless - Freeform, Heavy Angst, High School, Known Death, Matter of Life and Death, Murder, No because he has a thing called anger issues, Revenge, Sam accepts death too much, Sam has really bad anxiety, Sam is way too willing to die, Sam knew he was gonna die, Self-Hatred, Self-Sacrifice, Shooting Guns, Stabbing, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, anger issues, how he died, knife, please heed these warnings, sam's death, self-sacrificing, suicidal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clinkclinkb/pseuds/Clinkclinkb
Summary: Hatred nounha·tred | \ ˈhā-trəd  \Definition of hatred1 : extreme dislike or disgust : HATE2 : ill will or resentment that is usually mutual : prejudiced hostility or animosityPeaceful adjectivepeace·ful | \ ˈpēs-fəl  \Definition of peaceful3 : of or relating to a state or time of peace… the feasibility of creating a peaceful world order.— Alan TonelsonIn his life, Sam has only hated one person. And that person was in front of him with a gun straight to his head.[Or; Sam knew his death was coming soon and now he is facing his father knowing that this was going to end in blood.]





	A Delicate Heart

**Author's Note:**

> WOWOWOW okAY SO HI WELCOME BACK???  
> UM YOU GUYS ARE TOTALLY GOING TO HATE M E FOR THIS  
> HAVE SOME SAM ANGST
> 
> I PROMISE I WILL POST ANOTHER CHAPTER OF NEVER IN PEACE SOON  
> BE PATIENT WITH ME THANKS
> 
> seriously though, HEED THE WARNINGS! This may be triggering for some

\--

 

Hiding in the dark with his peers, he strained to listen to the hallways. It was too quiet, he couldn't trust that. Something in the back of his mind told him that today truly was the day, he wasn't sure if he was really ready for this. 

But who would be ready to face their death? 

His hands shook as his anxiety started to kick in, he knew it was going to happen, so why was he reacting this way? He needs to be prepared for the worst, he knows this. As he sat there in the dark, a small wave of calmness went over him. He was ready to die, he was willing to take a bullet for anyone, he would sacrifice himself for these people. If that meant they would be safe; he would gladly throw his life away. He exhaled as slowly as he could, getting a look from someone next to him. His hands turned into fists, knuckles turning white.  
If he died today, then so fucking be it. 

The sound of shoes thundered, slicing the eerily silence that had fallen.  
Sam sucked in air.

The footsteps walked slowly through the hallway, taking their time. He mused that they were looking for something, or someone. He knew exactly what they were looking for. He snapped out of it when he heard them stop in front of his classroom door. He felt himself stop breathing. He felt himself shiver, something dark swirled in his mind, he couldn't help himself. He slowly turned his head towards the teacher's desk, a pair of scissors innocently sitting there. His hand twitched, if it came down to it he would grab those. His head whipped towards the door when he heard a breathy laugh. "C'mon out, I know you are in there..." Sam felt his body freeze up,"or should I say, Sam?" Here goes nothing.  
Without noise he stood up, his peers looking towards him, he knew he looked insane. He reached out towards the scissors, grabbing them swiftly before anyone could stop him. He knew that voice anywhere, the voice that fed him lie after lie, and he was ready for it. He looked towards the teacher, with a single finger he silenced them. He needed complete silence in order for this to work. He placed the scissors in his trench coat's secret pocket, for now he must play as submissive, a scared child afraid of death. When the time is right, he will use it to his advantage. With that in mind, he slowly went towards the door, his pace lazy. 

Death had finally showed his face.

He stopped in front of the door. He felt his lips turn into something sinister.

"Good morning to you too, father." He spat the words, filled with such anger and venom. He knew that behind him everyone sat frozen in shock, eyes filled with fear and something else. He didn't care about that right now, not when he had a mission to fulfill. Protect the people, and make sure the person behind the door wouldn't suspect him. "Sweetie, please can you come out? I don't want to hurt you, I just wish to see you," Sam wanted to laugh,"I won't do anything, I promise." Such a bold lie he spoke, mused Sam. Some part of this amused him, most would call him insane for that, but he's faced enough to not be fully sane.  
"You promise me?" He remembers those words he spoke years ago, when he was nothing but naive and innocent.  
"I promise. I love you." He remembers his reply, how he was crying with a small smile before choking on his tears.  
He remembers the false warmth of his father's hug.  
He doesn't remember it ever being this cold before.

But he embraced it as he found himself in the hallway. His father is exactly how he remembered him. Eyes filled with false warmth and love, the smell of smoke and cheap beer. 

The only difference is he can see the toxicity eye to eye.  
He was shorter than his father, not by that much though. Which made him smile coldly. Who knew, maybe if things had been different he would have smiled warmly at seeing how far he's come, at seeing his father. But life doesn't work that way, its do or die. As he faced his father he knew.

This was going to end in blood.  
His father seemed to size him up before looking him in the eyes. Sam clenched his fists behind his back, staring right back at his father. 

"Let's go back home."

Sam smiled cruelly, a pang in his heart.  
"Yes, let's go home."

\--

He walked next to his father, only a little bit behind him.  
After all he wanted a clean shot.  
His father either had no clue or didn't really give a shit. Something told him it wasn't the latter. Their footsteps were the only sound in the otherwise silent hallway. He forced his hands to stay put behind him, not wanting the risk to accidentally touch his father. One shower wouldn't be enough to get rid of the disgusting feeling, he must've made a face as his father turned to look at him. "Only just a bit longer before we get out of here." Sam smiled and nodded, if only he knew that both of them wouldn't be getting out of here without blood. He took his time looking at his surroundings, not trusting that his father was the one that only came. He then eyed his father, trying to find any weapon on his person. He looked towards the opening of his pocket, spotting a gun laying in there.  
Of course.  
He felt his teeth grinding together.

Silence followed each footstep as they grew closer to the lunchroom.

\--

Here goes to death.

With a snap he grabbed the scissors with quick precision just in time for his father to pull out his gun. He knew it wasn't going to end.  
He swiped his arm with weight as he went for his chest. Blood scattered from the wound. More joined when the sound of a gun rang out and the bullet went to his shoulder. Sam cringed and he felt a small scream escape his lips, he bit down on his bottom lip, blood going into his mouth from the wound he made. His father cursed loudly as he scrambled away from him. Sam held his shoulder with a free hand, he snapped his head towards his father snarling.

"Give it up already! I know exactly why you're here, you want me DEAD! You are nothing but a fucking coward!" His father apparently didn't like that, as another shot rang out and went right next to him. Two different reasons came to mind, either he wanted to scare him or he just missed. Something told him it wasn't the latter.

Right in front of him, a knife sat almost innocently. He realized it came from his father, this sonnvabitch really brought a knife. He watched his father with careful eyes, waiting for any small movement. He shifted. With that small moment, he dove down, swiped at the knife with an easy hand. He had to be fast, faster than his father, he had to be smart, he had to stay alive. He promised all these people he would try, he can't fail them, not like this. A bullet flew over his head as he ducked. That would've gotten him in the chest. His blood boiled as he leaped back into place, sliding towards his father. Just as he was about to make another attack, an old feeling washed over him.  
He was reminded of a small child, full of love and hope. Naive, innocent, the perfect child. Just like that, he suddenly didn't feel all that angry anymore.  
He hesitated.

Just like that, a bullet hit its target.  
So did the knife.  
Blood spattered from his chest, and he crumbled to the ground slowly.  
His father followed.  
He gasped for air, his vision going blurry, he blinked. His vision was still the same, everything felt hazy, cold. He reached a hand out, for something, for someone. But nobody came.  
Somehow that hurt more than dying.  
He supposes he's somewhat use to it by now, that managed a small smile. Time had slowed, he turned his head slowly towards the windows. Snow fell slowly, with little twirls as the wind blew through. Others hated it, but for him it was so beautiful, the snow has always given him small freedom, even for a moment. He started to hum lightly with difficulty. An old song that he once heard when he was a child. The voice spoke softly into his mind, edging him towards the wonders of sleep. He continued to hum the old tune, the voice spoke smoothly, singing along with his humming. He felt warm, light, despite the delicately sad tune. He felt himself fade, his humming becoming more hushed.  
He felt water.  
His eyes lidded (when did he close them?), he saw a frame of someone. Why are they here? He focused more, seeing brown hair barricading him. With the next focusing of his eyes, he saw brown orbs that gleamed with tears. Words were forming, but he couldn't hear or understand what was happening. But he needed to tell them something, he needed them to know that--he needed them to understand that he was--  
"I..I-I'm sorrrryyyy.." He voice cracked, he felt so tired.  
"....thank..y.."

He accepted the feeling.  
Just like that the world faded to black.

\----

He never felt so exhausted.  
He didn't want to wake up, he didn't want to move.  
He felt so warm, a smooth voice sounded in his head. 

What a beautiful song to fall asleep to. 

The song followed him.

With one final whisper it came to a close.


End file.
